Caving In
by Froody
Summary: When a passage caves in on Potter, Lily's the only one around to save him - and this Head Girl's in danger of caving in herself.  L/J
1. Caving In

**A/N: Lily/James was the first pairing I ever shipped and looks set to be among the last. Can't get enough of them. **

**Thanks to ObsidianEmbrace for the tip-top beta work. **

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Since her induction into the wizarding world, Lily Evans had learned many things. She had, in fact, learned so very many things that it was hard to know where to begin. Following the fact that magic was somewhat more than fiction, perhaps the most important thing that Lily had learned was that the sound of James Potter's voice invariably spelled trouble.

Potter's voice: a catalyst for chaos, disorder and general disaster. It was loud. It was maddening. Even worse, it was incontestably attractive. It had a rich, pleasant sort of timbre, full of laughter and playful boyishness. It dealt out a Head Boy's commands with ease, and excelled in the making of elaborate excuses when caught red-wanded. Really, the only fault Lily could find with that voice was the fact that it belonged to James Potter.

Sadly enough, this was a difficult fault to forgive.

It was injustice itself that such a charming voice belonged to the biggest prat around. Potter didn't always act the prat these days – sometimes he even hid the fact entirely – but Lily was well aware of the dormant berk behind the voice. Even so, just a word or two from Potter, and her stomach would make like a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees. This was a recent and most unwelcome development, and one that she had no intention of nurturing.

All this went some way to explaining the strength of Lily's reaction to the disembodied voice that greeted her midway down an empty corridor in the East Wing.

"Hello?"

She jumped, books spilling from her arms. Stomach leaping into third gear, she clutched the remaining tome to her chest – _The Head Girl's Guide to Averting Everyday Peril_, 3rd ed. – and whipped her head about every which way.

The voice spoke again, louder this time.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

There wasn't, not as far as Lily could see. The corridor was just as empty as it had been moments earlier. Her only visible companion was an unsightly sort of statue, and Gregory the Smarmy had never shown any prior inclination to converse with Head Girls after curfew.

"I can hear you gasping out there, all right? Say something!"

Heart pounding madly, Lily shifted her weight from foot to foot. She knew who that voice belonged to, of course – had done since the first word spoken – but the knowledge that an invisible James Potter was calling didn't do much to tempt a response. She had suffered the Head Boy's company for far too long to think this set-up anything less than suspect. There was a prank in the works here, and Lily did not intend to stick around and play victim to a piece of mischief making.

And her stomach had no business fluttering at the edges like that.

Summoning her books from the floor, Lily spun on her heel and started back off down the corridor.

"If you're still there… Please. Please say something."

Lily stuttered to a halt. The voice – Potter's voice – sounded almost desperate. She had never heard it sound that way before. It was unsettling, and worse, forbade Lily from legging it without further delay. She had never been able to ignore calls for help, even if they did come from long-hated Head Boys.

Fully aware that she was probably playing right into Potter's hands, Lily turned back around. The corridor was as deserted as ever. She gazed appealingly at Gregory the Smarmy, but the statue neglected to offer counsel of any kind.

"Potter?" she tried gingerly. She hoped that the prank would be brief and relatively painless, not one of those affairs with the forty-eight hour feathers that the Marauders were so fond of.

"Lily?"

"Well, it's not Mrs Norris."

"Thank Merlin it's you."

Potter sounded something stronger than relieved; Lily couldn't say she shared the sentiment. She was beginning to suspect that Potter was in some sort of trouble, and while this was in many ways a comfort, in other, more stomach-niggling ways, it was not. If Potter had some bona fide reason for being invisible, Lily was determined to hear it.

"Potter."

"Yes?"

"Where are you?"

"Ah. Thought you might ask that."

"A keen deduction."

"Bet you're surprised to find me here. And on the night of a wildly successful Quidditch match, no less."

"Haven't found you yet, have I? I've simply been accosted by your disembodied voice."

"Accosted is a strong word."

"'Disembodied' is much more interesting, don't you think?"

"There is that."

Lily hugged her books to her chest, beginning to feel her nerves slide swiftly into something sharper. It felt like frustration, it felt like anger, and it felt comfortingly familiar. She embraced it wholeheartedly.

"Potter, if you don't tell me where you are in five seconds flat, I'll whistle for Filch and you'll learn the true meaning of 'accosted'."

There was a heavy sigh from somewhere to Lily's left, and she swung around triumphantly to find herself blinking at Gregory the Smarmy.

"I've tried whistling for Filch. Didn't work."

"You have?"

"Whistling, shouting, everything short of clanging a bloody cow bell. He must be at the other end of the castle along with every single professor in the place. I've been making one hell of a noise."

Lily didn't know what to make of that. She had never known a student to wilfully attempt to attract the caretaker's attention. Even the Marauders hadn't the nerve – not until tonight, at any rate. Something funny was going on.

Dumping her books on the floor and giving _The Head Girl's Guide_ a sardonic sort of glare, Lily straightened. There was nothing for it. If Potter had flung himself into an unusually sticky situation, it looked like Lily was the only one around to unstick him.

"Out with it, Potter. Can't help 'til I know what you've gone and done this time."

And again with the heavy sighing. "Look, Lily. It's – er – a little embarrassing. Could you… Just ask Sirius to come and find me, all right?"

Lily put her hands on her hips. "Tell him yourself."

"Not quite in a position to do that, Evans."

"Why not?"

"Fine. Fine. All right. If you must know the truth…"

Lily waited.

"I'm trapped in the passageway behind the statue, that's all," he finished in a rush, voice losing much of its charm and composure along the way. "It caved in as I was climbing out. And that's where I am. Hence why you can't see me. And I was rather hoping to retain some dignity, but there you are."

It took a moment for this speech to sink in, but when it did, Lily's reaction was immediate. There was really only one appropriate response, and that one being panic, she thought she'd try another.

"You idiot!"

"Sorry?"

"James Potter, you stupid, stupid, interminable idiot!"

"I suppose that's fair, but given the circumstances – "

Lily was having none of it. Despite her best efforts, panic was making its presence felt. Loudly. "You mean to tell me that all this time you've been pinned to the ground behind that smarmy sodding statue? And instead of giving me the salient facts, you've been trying to protect your dignity, dignity that, incidentally, exists _only in your mind_? Merlin! I've got to go! I'll get help, hang on – "

And scrabbling through the pile of books that she'd somehow managed to scatter across the corridor, Lily had made a few metres when that stupid voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Wait."

It was his Head Boy voice, the firm, commanding one. Lily responded automatically. She fetched up against the opposite wall, spinning around with a curse and a heaving chest.

"_Wait_?"

"Wait. Don't – I don't want you to go."

Breathing too fast and backed against a tapestry, Lily scowled her confusion.

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. Feeling inappropriately awkward, she fought hard to keep the sharpness in her tone. "You've got half of Hogwarts collapsed in over your head. I need to go and get help. I'm going."

She didn't move.

"You won't," said Potter, and he said it with such certainty that Lily knew it to be true. "You're staying here. And it's not collapsed on my head, it's just blocking my exit. So stop panicking."

Forcing herself to exhale through her nose, Lily pushed herself off the wall and stood straight. She wasn't feeling brave at all, but she refused to let fear get the best of her. She walked right up to Gregory the Smarmy and peered around the base. There, invisible from the corridor, was the unmistakable outline of a passageway. Even less mistakable were the heaping boulders cramming up its entrance. Well, if Hogwarts was going to collapse in on itself, at least it had done a neat job of it. And Potter was stuck behind it all…

She sneezed.

"Lily!"

Swiping sheepishly at her nose, Lily pressed a hand against the nearest of the dust-coated rocks.

"What?"

"Trying to cause an avalanche, are you?"

"Perhaps."

"Rather homicidal, don't you think?

"What, did you expect me to rescue you? Has our long and torturous history taught you nothing?"

"I'm a terrible student when I don't want to learn something, Evans. But I'll try a bit harder if you promise not to sneeze again."

Lily grinned, but her smile faded quickly as she pictured Potter alone on the other side of the boulder-blocked entrance. She'd never exactly been on good terms with the git, but like so many things in the wizarding world, her compassion didn't have an off-switch. And Potter really wasn't as bad as she told herself he was.

And his voice made her shiver a bit.

"If this is a secret passage, Potter, why don't you just run along and escape out the other end of it?" she asked bluntly, eager to stop that particular train of thought while she still could.

His answer was said so matter-of-factly that Lily could have screamed. "Can't. It caved in behind me as well."

"Oh." Lily had much to add to this statement, but presently felt unequal to the task.

"Yeah. Best option is for you to blast the passage open, I think."

"What? _Me_?"

"No, my mate Gregory out there. Yes, _you_! And you'd better get on with it, too."

Aghast, Lily ran her eyes over the wall of rubble separating Potter from safety. "Look, I really don't think I'm the best person – "

And now it was Potter's turn to snap. "For Merlin's sake, Evans. Aside from me and Sirius, you're the top of the year, and Head Girl to boot. Now whip out that wand of yours and blast me out, won't you? If anyone can help me, it's you."

"I can't – "

"You can."

"But – "

"I trust you." His voice was quieter now. "Come on, Lily. There's nobody else around, and who knows how long the passage will hold before it comes down on my head. It's like Damocles' sodding sword here."

Lily shook her head in frustration. There were enough potential disasters here to fill a year's worth of Divination dream charts. What if she did it wrong? What if she did it right, but the force of the blast did what her sneeze couldn't and caused an avalanche? What if –

"I trust you, Lily," Potter repeated, interrupting her panicked thoughts with a gentle voice that had her sliding her wand from her pocket before she knew what she was doing. She took two good steps back from the blocked passage and raised her wand. When she straightened, her resolve was perfect. Her fingers barely trembled as she started to speak.

"Potter!"

This was what she cried, intended charm forgotten, as the world erupted with noise. A great scraping series of crashes had started at the exact moment that Lily had opened her mouth. She stood there frozen, heart petrified in her chest. And then the crashing stopped. And then –

"_James_!"

Lily dropped to her knees in the stinging spill of rubble and started clawing away at the rocks in the passageway. She was hardly aware of what she was doing; she just kept digging her hands in and tearing stones out by the handful. Her wand had rolled off somewhere. She couldn't find it when she finally remembered it. Lost in panic, it took several minutes before she even heard the shouts coming from beyond the boulders.

"Lily! Are you hurt? Answer me! Lily!"

"James!" she croaked in relief, forgetting her wand and crawling forwards. "I'm fine! I'm fine. Are you all right? What happened?"

Her heart may have been thundering in her ears but Lily didn't miss the muffled grunt of pain that came from the other side of the rock fall. The beaming relief slipped from her face in an instant.

"What's wrong? James? _Potter_!"

"Nothing, I – ah. Merlin. I'm just… more immediately trapped, you might say. With a couple of rocks on my legs, but nothing I can't handle. Only a flesh wound. Who needs legs, anyway?"

He paused and seemed to realise that Lily might not be taking this news with the levity he intended.

"I'm fine. Really. In a bit of pain, that's all."

Lily couldn't seem to remember how to form words. Something wet splashed onto her hand and she started. Peering down, she found that her robes were spotted with tears, and her fingernails torn and bleeding. Everything around her was grey with dust.

"You know," James continued conversationally, forcing Lily's eyes back to the rocks where she imagined him to be, "I think I can see light from the corridor. Couldn't before, but I suppose this recent collapse – which, by the way, I blame on your sneeze – has knocked away some of the blockage. So we've made progress, really."

With a self-conscious sniff, Lily finally managed to straighten out her vocal chords. "Who are you trying to distract by blathering on like that?"

There was a touch of wry laughter in James' voice when he answered. "Both of us, I think."

Lily managed a watery smile. It vanished as soon as her next thought arrived, and she hauled herself painfully to her feet.

"What am I doing? I should be getting help! I should never have let you convince me to stay before. Idiot!"

James coughed and Lily stopped moving immediately. His voice, while just as commanding as before, was tight with suppressed pain.

"We've already been over this, Evans. You're not going anywhere. Either you sit yourself back down like a good Head Girl, or I come out there and make you."

"That's not funny."

"You may be right."

Despite the quiet authority in James' bloody Head Boy voice, and the fact that her legs felt ready to collapse just as soundly as the passageway, Lily somehow managed to stay on her feet. She was the only one in a position to take action here. She was the only Head Girl around to avert everyday peril.

Stupid sodding book.

"You need a Healer," she stated, not a trace of panic left in her voice. "You need magical medical attention and Dumbledore and a lifetime of detentions for ever setting foot in that unquestionably prohibited passage to who knows where. Don't you worry, Potter: when you get out of this, you'll get to spend plenty of time with me. I'll be the one hexing you seventeen shades of pain for ever causing me this much stress. But for now, I need to go and get help."

"Stay."

"No."

"Please."

"I promise I'll be quick."

Lily had already ducked around Gregory when James called again.

"A Patronus would be quicker. It'll take ages to find a professor. Send a message with your Patronus from here."

Lily skidded to a halt, indecision flooding back through her veins. She wrung her wrists, glancing from the statue to the end of the corridor and back.

"You've studied the theory, I know you have. Dumbledore told us about it in our last Head's meeting. Can't get more efficient than a Patronus-delivered message. And you're the best at Charms in the school. Pains my ego to say it, but it's true. Think about it."

After a pause, Lily nodded. "You're right. You're right," she repeated in a louder voice, darting back and peering around at the spill of rocks hiding James from view. "There's no guarantee I'll find a professor soon enough." A thought struck. "But – "

"But nothing."

And James was right again. Lily had only just remembered that she'd lost her wand when she spotted it half-buried at the base of the statue. She picked it up and found comfort in the familiar weight of it.

The Patronus Charm: easier said than done.

"Come on, Evans," she bit out, face fixed in a scowl of concentration. "You've done it before. A happy memory and the incantation: simple. Easy. Flitwick loves you for a reason."

"Should I be jealous?"

Lily glared at the passage entrance. "Aren't you supposed to be dying?" She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to summon a happy memory to mind. It had to be a joyful one, bright enough to blast away the darkness.

In the past, she had used the memory of meeting Severus for the first time and learning that magic was real. It was useless now, irreparably tainted by the ugly conclusion of their friendship. So it was with a series of happy memories from her first years at Hogwarts.

As she skated over possibilities, one ruined by Sev, the next by her sister, the stress started building until all she could think about was James, how James was hurt, he was in pain, his legs crushed by rocks and she needed that memory _now_, anything –

She gave it up with an audible sob. "I – I can't! I can't think. No happy memories. I'm too – too – "

Even as she burrowed into her hands, her skin prickled with humiliation. Why couldn't this be anyone, _anyone_ but James Potter? She didn't want him to see her weak. She didn't want him to be in pain. All she wanted was to belt him upside the jaw and make sure he was safe.

I'm sorry," she finally managed, gaze fixed to the ground. "I'm so sorry."

Potter's voice came as fierce and loud as hers wasn't. "Don't be. You've nothing to be sorry about, you daft cow. You're brilliant. And so am I. So we're going to leave it for a minute and try again later. Because together we're doubly brilliant, and who could argue with that?"

"Nobody."

"What was that?"

"_Nobody_," Lily repeated, smiling through her tears. "Between us, we've got the world at our feet, is that right?"

"Or _on_ our feet, as the case may be."

"Idiot."

"Teacher's pet."

Lily heaved a shaky sigh and dragged her hands beneath her eyes, scrubbing away at the gritty moisture. "All right, then. We'll – we'll sit. And you'll talk. I'd love to hear what made you decide to prance about in this stupid collapsing passage."

"I was fetching a crate of butterbeer."

Lily pulled a face at the blocked entrance. "Don't be stupid. You can only get butterbeer at…" She faltered midway through the sentence as clarity arrived. "Oh."

"Right. At Hogsmeade. This is one of those secret tunnels that clever students discover in their second year, dear Head Girl."

The dear Head Girl snorted. "I thought it was one of those secret tunnels that cave in on idiot students in their seventh year, _Head Boy_."

"That's no way to talk to a dying man, Evans. I'll haunt you if you keep that up."

"No thanks. Can't imagine anything worse. But just to get it straight in my mind, you've been hiking out to Hogsmeade to pick up beverages for the post-match party, correct?"

"To the letter."

"And the need for butterbeer was dire enough to risk life and limb?"

"You wouldn't even ask that if you'd seen the match. It was brilliant, Lily. One of the best. Tell you what, if I do end up popping my clogs down here, at least I'll be remembered for my supreme Quidditch captaining."

"Arrogant twat," muttered Lily, her indulgent grin at odds with the words. "That's what your epitaph will read. 'Here lies James Potter, conceited twit to the last.' They will wreathe your grave in butterbeer and snitches."

"I certainly hope so. And don't call me arrogant; you'll make me cry. It'll ruin the photos."

"What photos?"

"The photos in the special ed. of the _Daily Prophet_ celebrating my rescue."

"Maybe in the Auror criminal profiling photos, you prat."

"Maybe. Either way, by then you'll have a shiny new memory to inject into those Patronus Charms."

There was a pause; evidently, James was waiting for a response. On the other side of the wall, Lily had sunk back into stress at this reminder of the task ahead. She bit her lip. Maybe she should run for help now before James could convince her otherwise.

"Hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, Evans," interrupted James' voice in a mock show of disapproval. "Are you are Gryffindor or a guineapig? A Head Girl or a Hufflepuff? A witch or a – "

"Do you never shut up?"

"I never _give_ up, that's what. And neither should you. And I bet, I bet, that if we sit here and think up happy memories for you, that message-bearing Patronus will appear like _magic_. Now, tell me: why can't you just use the memory of my naked body? Oh, don't be coy. You walked into the Prefect's bathroom on purpose, admit it."

Lily spluttered her outrage, the words 'accidental' and 'horrifying' featuring prominently. "I thought we agreed to forget about that! On pain of death, mind. And you weren't even naked!"

"That's right – I was wearing pants. Well, so much for that. We'll rectify the situation once I'm out, agreed?"

Groaning aloud, Lily kicked at the rubble-filled wall. It collapsed in at the force of the blow, and she leapt up with a cry.

"James!"

"Eager, aren't you?" he coughed from the other side. "No, don't worry, I'm fine. In fact – in fact, I can see you!"

Lily dove into the dust-cloud and ran her fingers across the passage entrance, eyes streaming painfully. She found a small opening and rammed her hand inside, scraping her arm up to the elbow. "Where are you? I can't – "

All words dried up as something latched onto her hand. It felt like another hand. It felt like James' hand. It closed over hers and squeezed like it would never let go, and Lily squeezed back just as tightly.

New tears spilled over.

"See? Wasn't making it up," he said hoarsely, punctuating the words with a cough. "Personally, I appreciate these Muggle methods of rescuing the fair maiden, but my lungs are less impressed. You may have to give me the kiss of life once you've pulled me out."

"Is that all I am to you? Some sort of anti-Dementor?"

"Got it in one."

"Well, as long as that's sorted," said Lily, up to the elbow in rubble and brimming with relief. James was alive, alive and squeezing, and somehow there seemed new room for hope with his hand in hers and his voice carrying on with their silly banter despite it all. If Lily had thought that voice sent her stomach fizzing, she hadn't counted on the dizzying effects of his hand. In fact – in fact, she felt so hopeful, and so happy, she could just –

"_Expecto patronum_!" she cried, and watched as an enormous silvery animal erupted from the end of her wand and galloped away. She was gripping James' hand so tightly that he'd probably need a new arm, let alone legs.

"Ending it so soon, Evans? And I thought we were having such a good time."

"I did it," she breathed, ignoring him entirely. "I did it! I didn't think, I just said the words. And it was a doe. Never has been before. It was… beautiful."

The pressure on her hand had tightened with every word. When James spoke, he sounded strangely awed.

"A doe?"

"A deer. A female deer."

And then another hand gripped onto hers, and Lily thought she could have started a Patronus deer farm – but there was no need. The next moment saw Dumbledore and McGonagall bursting out into view, respectively clad in nightcap and hairnet.

McGonagall hissed at the spectacle before her, her face greying slightly with shock.

"Miss Evans, come away from there _immediately_."

Lily shook her head, gesturing feebly to the boulders with her free hand. "James – Potter – he's trapped in there – "

McGonagall's eyebrows leapt into her hairnet. She made a sudden forward movement as if set to extract the Head Boy with her bare hands, but Dumbledore restrained her with a quiet word. The Head of House stepped back, lips thin with anxiety, and did nothing more than remove her wand from her tartan dressing gown.

"It's all right, really," said Lily, tugging on James' hand and willing him to speak, to prove that she hadn't made anything up, that she'd summoned them there for a reason. "He's alive. He's been hurt, though. Rocks fell on his – his legs when the passage caved in."

James confirmed this readily enough, and a look of undiluted relief swept over McGonagall's face.

"I am delighted to see that you've put my Patronus theory to good use, Miss Evans," Dumbledore began, gazing benevolently down upon his dust-covered Head Girl. "They have certainly proved their worth as message-carriers tonight."

"I am less delighted to find that the Gryffindor Quidditch captain was the test subject for confirming these theories," said McGonagall, her relief now transfigured into censure. "How are the legs, Potter?"

"Taut and toned, Professor. Spiffing. Splendid. They seem to have elected to part ways with my body, but aside from that, it's all sunshine."

"I feel an expulsion would be appropriate, Albus," said McGonagall in a carrying voice that James couldn't fail to hear. Lily's insides squeezed with sudden alarm until she caught sight of the humour behind the professor's spectacles. "Or perhaps we should allow Argus to bring out a few of those admirable instruments of his."

"If he starts with the toe screws, I shan't feel a thing, Professor."

Lily, busy wishing she could personally employ toe screws on the cheeky prat attached to her hand, was startled when Dumbledore offered his arm and requested her removal from the scene. She stared dumbly from the professors to the blocked passageway, and only managed to extract herself from the rubble after James had slipped his fingers from her grasp.

At first sight of the blood streaking down Lily's arm, McGonagall ordered her off to the Hospital Wing.

"But it's only a scratch – "

"Humour your professors, Miss Evans."

Lily turned pleadingly to Dumbledore. His eyes were firm, if twinkling, behind his half-moon spectacles, and she knew it was no good to argue. And what could she say? She was worried about the Head Boy? Her loathing for James Potter had collapsed in the space of a single night? She didn't want to leave his side?

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his fingers together and offered a gentle smile. "I assure you that we'll soon have Mr Potter out in one piece."

Scrounging up her resolve, Lily nodded, and she met those clear blue eyes with a pointed look. "Don't make it too quick, Professor. I've had to put up with quite a lot tonight. And if he happens to lose a leg during his retrieval, I won't say a word to the Ministry."

Dumbledore chuckled merrily; McGonagall gave an appreciative sniff. James did better than both, remaining silent and meek for possibly the first time in his life. Lily heard this statement of gratitude more clearly than if he'd asked Peeves to belt it through a magically-enhanced Muggle loudspeaker in the Great Hall at breakfast.

With a shuddering sort of breath full of relief and deflated panic, Lily turned her back on the scene and made to slide past Gregory to freedom – but somehow, she couldn't find it within herself to take that first step away. She glanced back to find Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanging a knowing sort of smile. Heat slammed into her cheeks but still she stood there, staring helplessly at the wall of rocks.

She wanted to say goodbye. She wanted to talk to James. She wanted their ridiculous banter to keep going. They had never managed to speak in civil terms for so long, and she didn't want it to begin and end tonight. She wanted James to know this, but she couldn't find the words.

All she could do was stand there, cheeks aflame, with McGonagall making that odd little clicking noise with her tongue.

"Lily?"

It was James.

"Are you still there?"

A smile rippled out across Lily's face without a hint of warning.

"Yeah."

She was rocking forward on her heels, battling the urge to dart back and reach for James' hand once more. A knock to the head: that was the only rational explanation.

"You'd better head off to the Hospital Wing, you know. You'll have to be in tip-top condition to fulfil the oath you made before."

It was so very easy to forget that her Headmaster and Head of House were listening to every word being said.

"What oath?"

"The one where you promised to stay with me always, Evans. I'm dying to experience those – what was it? – seventeen shades of pain."

Lily rolled her eyes heavenward. "Idiot."

"I so enjoy your pet names. Now shove off, won't you? If they start digging now, they might still find some tattered strands of my dignity."

It was with a shaky and uncontrollable smile that Lily turned on her heel and slipped out into the empty corridor. She blinked in the candlelight and, sighing, summoned her scattered books into her arms. She barely felt she needed them any more.

In her almost seven years at Hogwarts, Lily had learned many things – certainly enough to fill the 4th, 5th and 6th editions of _The Head Girl's Guide to Averting Everyday Peril_ without breaking a sweat. Magic was real and James Potter's voice was dangerous. But Lily had never been one to run from danger. She was brave and sort of brilliant, and so was the enormous git back beneath the boulders.

And once she was done hexing him every which way for putting her through this ordeal, she might even let him live. Or hold her hand.

Lily made off for the Hospital Wing with barely another glance backwards.

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_To be continued in Part Two._

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Thanks for reading. Please review!**

**xx Froody**


	2. Pushing Off

**A/N: Thanks again to my beta, ObsidianEmbrace, who pretty much provided the plot outline for this part. You are fabulous. :)**

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Lily had waited a good many years for the world to come crashing down on James Potter's head. Collapse was inevitable: his ego was inflated to such a degree that a puncture was merely a matter of when and where. While Lily doubted any lasting damage had been done to that infamous ego tonight, she couldn't say the same about the Head Boy beneath, and hence was entirely unable to enjoy the overwhelming irony of the night's events.

Trust Potter to spoil poetic justice.

He'd be fine, of course. He was always springing back from adversity with a smirk on his face and battle-scars on display for the world. Lily knew James too well to expect anything else, even if a tunnel had taken up temporary residence on his legs. This is what she told herself as she sat perched on the edge of a bed in the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey fussing loudly over the state of her arm.

It didn't work.

Try as she might to summon up memories of the strutting, smirking git-of-the-past, her brain persisted in adding unwelcome details: a limp, a debilitating wound, a pair of broken spectacles. Lily's insides were twisted, caught somewhere between fuming and fretting.

Where was he? What could be taking so long? If anyone could de-collapse a passageway, it was Dumbledore – but what if the wand flicked instead of swished, and the whole thing caved in mid-rescue?

What if somebody _sneezed_?

Lily jumped as something cold and wet slopped onto her skin.

"It's just one thing after another in this school," the matron said brusquely, ointment oozing onto Lily's arm from the tip of her wand. "Exploded cauldrons, Quidditch matches, collapsing castles – for goodness sake! If I had it my way, you'd all be strapped up and bound in protective cushions. Would save me a nice bit of work, I'll have you know…"

Lily nodded numbly along, mind already creeping back to the East Wing corridor. The questions quickly tumbled back into place, piling up like bricks in a wall, higher and higher until she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Where's James?" she burst out, the name still tasting foreign on her lips. "He should be here by now. What if they couldn't get him out?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, taking Lily's arm in a firmer, steadier grasp. "That's not for you to worry about. He'll be along. _You_ need to sit here calmly and wait for the salve to take effect."

Muttering in undertone about the dire effects of stress on the students, Madam Pomfrey fixed Lily with an admonishing look before bustling off to the next bed along. As Lily watched her throw back the blankets, she was forcibly struck by the urge to flee, and flee _now_, before that bed was occupied.

A hot, panicky feeling nipped sharply at her nerves; it was all she could do not to bolt for the door. It wasn't that she didn't want to see James – quite the opposite, in fact. She was desperate to make sure he'd managed to survive the rescue effort. It was just – it was just that…

Lily fidgeted with her blankets until Madam Pomfrey threatened to confiscate them.

Thing was – thing was, she didn't know what she was going to _say _to James when she saw him. He was the one who'd been flinging about the idea of defending his dignity, but it was _she_ who had broken down and hung onto his hand back there. If any dignity remained between them, it certainly wasn't weighted to Lily's side.

But it was more than a matter of pride. Unlike James, Lily hadn't much of an ego to puncture, and she was hardly the sort to skip out of a situation to avoid embarrassment. The heart of the issue was a much simpler matter. Face to face in a non-fatal setting, Lily was afraid they'd fall right back into the bickering of the past six and something years.

Gaze fixing on the empty bed beside hers, Lily exhaled shakily.

Stupid. She was being stupid. If she could banter with James through a rubble-filled wall, they should be able to do the same here. It shouldn't make any difference. It shouldn't.

Her eyes caught on the salve glistening on her arm, the one she'd shoved through boulders to reach for the Head Boy, just because it had seemed the thing to do at the time. What was that ridiculous thing James had said? Something about Gryffindors and –

She made a face. "I am _not_ a guineapig."

"That's the spirit, dear," Madam Pomfrey said absently from the next bed over, adjusting the pillows with aplomb.

Lily flushed; still, she stuck by the sentiment. Lily Evans did not retreat. She was better than that, braver than that. And really, when it came down to it, she knew that she'd have to face up to James at some point. Better in the relative privacy of the Hospital Wing than the Gryffindor common room.

But what on earth was she going to _say_?

"Fancy meeting you here, Evans."

Lily's head snapped about at the sound of that voice, the usual premonitions of chaos, disorder and general disaster flashing immediately to mind. Her nerves sharpened exponentially. Expecting James, Lily blinked at the sight of McGonagall, following the path of the witch's outstretched wand arm to the horizontal body suspended above.

She gasped.

"No hysterics, please," said McGonagall as she strode through the Hospital Wing, dressing gown flapping irritably behind her. "If Potter can talk, I daresay he'll live." She did not sound especially pleased by the prospect.

Exchanging a dark look with Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall lowered James onto the bed next to Lily's. Mobility flooded back through his body the moment he touched the mattress, but a pale flash of a smile was all Lily saw before the witches whipped the curtains closed around his bed.

"Whatever you do for him, Poppy, I advise you knock him out. This boy requires nothing less than Skelegro."

"Lost bones, has he?"

"Haven't a clue. I wasn't thinking of his health."

Madam Pomfrey huffed her agreement. This was followed by a disconcerted rustling of the sheets, James adding his piece to the conversation.

"You know, this isn't quite the bedside manner I was expecting…"

Lily stared at the closed set of curtains, arm flopping forgotten by her side. Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis was clearly audible through the thin cotton divide: a broken ankle and severe bruising from thigh to mid-calf – and _no_, she would _not_ stop touching Potter there, she was doing her_ job_, and would he kindly lie still or would Filch's shackles be required?

It sounded like James would survive the injury – if not the matron's wrath.

Lily slumped back against the pillows with a muffled sigh. Relief pressed painfully against her ribs. She had no doubt James deserved more than a broken ankle and some bruising for the supreme idiocy of tramping up and down forbidden tunnels, but an ankle it was, and thank Merlin for that. The thought of Potter injured was… something more than painful. She didn't like to think why.

"Your salve will have taken effect by now, dear," said Pomfrey from behind the curtain, and it took a moment for Lily to realise that she was being addressed. She started, eyes darting down to her arm. The skin was smooth and barely marked, a far cry from the torn and jagged mess that the ointment had been applied to.

"Thank you," she called softly, perhaps too softly to carry through the curtains. Lily wasn't entirely sure she wanted Madam Pomfrey to hear her. If she did, she would surely order Lily back to her dormitory, and McGonagall would do more than echo the sentiment. But she couldn't leave yet. She had to talk to James, make her own diagnosis, and break a few more ankles if necessary.

Next moment, McGonagall thrust her way out of the curtains and stopped sharply at the sight of Lily.

"Dormitory, Evans. If Poppy says your arm is healed, there's no point dallying about here. I'll accompany you back to the Tower. I do believe it's high time that the victory party was put to rest."

Lily shook her head, thinking quickly. "I'm not feeling a hundred percent, Professor. Dizzy. If it's all right – if you don't mind, I'd like to lie here for a minute."

McGonagall examined her closely, and when she spoke, Lily was startled by the kindness in her voice. "Of course. It's the shock of the thing. You stay there until you are recovered – and mind you don't let Potter disturb your rest."

With a final nod, the Head of House strode for the door, leaving Lily to breathe a silent sigh of relief. She settled back into bed and listened to Madam Pomfrey muttering something about idiotic schoolboys who thought they were invincible until a boulder knocked some sense into them.

It was some time before the matron stepped out from behind the curtains, but when she did, she stopped and fixed Lily with a pointed look. "Still here, are we?"

"Professor McGonagall gave her permission," Lily explained, trying her best to look as wan and weary as she felt inside.

"Did she? Well, Minerva knows best… Perhaps some chocolate…"

Lily accepted the slab of chocolate with good grace and sat there gnawing at it until Madam Pomfrey left satisfied. It took barely a second for James to take advantage of their privacy.

"Lily?"

Lily stopped gnawing at once. She cleared her throat once, then twice, finding it suddenly difficult to swallow. "Yes?" she managed at last.

"Well, come over here then! Open the curtains or something, sit on the bed, whatever you like. I'd come to you, only my ankle's busted and I'm reasonably certain Pomfrey's attached a bell to my big toe."

The chocolate was melting all over her fingers. Appetite waning, Lily placed what remained on the table beside her bed. The warmth that had enveloped her with the first few mouthfuls of the stuff was already seeping away.

"Lily? Lily!"

"Shut up, she'll hear you," Lily hissed, making no move to rise and comply with James' orders. It wasn't that anything had changed, exactly – she still wanted to check he was all right, that his limbs were still attached as they should be, that his pillows were fluffed and his cheeks less pale – but it was precisely this urge to _protect_ that was holding her back. She shouldn't feel this way. She never had before, no matter how much her insides had fluttered at the sound of James' voice.

Her hands shook slightly as she wiped them on the sheets.

"Come over, won't you? May as well chat while we're both here."

When Lily offered no immediate response, James exhaled loudly, his frustration obvious. "Merlin, Evans. What, you can't even pull back the curtain and take a gander at the invalid? Come off it. I want to see you."

Lily bit her lip. "Why?"

"_Because_. That's how a normal conversation works between two consenting adults. And I want to, you know… make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine," said Lily, hoping her voice didn't betray any of the tightness she felt in her chest. He wanted to check she was all right? Nonsense. Why should he?

"Fine, are you? Pomfrey said there's something wrong with your arm. And you told McGonagall you felt dizzy."

"Studying to be a Healer?"

"Enough, all right? Feels like I'm still trapped in that sodding tunnel with you on the outside."

Lily stiffened, the phrase affecting her more than she would have liked. There was a distinct undertone of pleading in her terse reply. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," came James' response, and he sounded almost surprised about it, like he hadn't really considered that aspect of the situation. There was a warmth in his voice that spoke of his pleasure in the fact, a warmth that Lily recognised and then immediately resolved to ignore.

James Potter's was a dangerous voice; it wouldn't do to forget this.

"I felt dizzy," she said once somewhat recovered, and her tone was defensive. She didn't want James to get it into his head that she'd stayed in the Hospital Wing for him – especially as it was, after all, the truth.

"But you feel _fine_ now."

"I ate some chocolate."

"Nobody offered me chocolate. I suppose a broken ankle doesn't merit any. I should have put on a fainting spell instead."

"I didn't put it on, Potter."

"I suppose the sight of me sent you swooning, then."

"Funny."

James snorted. "I know you, Evans. You don't go all faint at the drop of a wand, and you certainly didn't sound dizzy back in the East Wing. Either you stayed here for the sake of some chocolate, a move which I would applaud and admire, or you wanted to talk to me."

"Arrogant toerag."

"Haven't heard that one in a few years. I thought I'd been upgraded to 'conceited twit' as per the epitaph."

"How times change."

It was incredible how swiftly Lily's irritation had grown, undoubtedly honed by years of practice. She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, more annoyed at herself than the berk behind the curtain. She was being entirely unreasonable and prickly to a fault. It wasn't like her. She didn't want to act like this.

This was exactly what she'd been afraid of: that they wouldn't be able to speak in a civil sort of manner once the crisis had ended. And it wasn't James' fault, not at all. He was being nothing more or less than himself – and he was being _nice_.

She flinched as he began to apologise, obviously eager to avoid another argument – but Lily wouldn't stand for it.

"No, don't," she interrupted tightly. "Don't apologise. I'm the one being stupid. And I'm sorry. I am."

"Nevertheless, I shouldn't have kept pushing it. So I'll stop. And we'll just talk. Like you wanted."

"Like I wanted," Lily repeated slowly, admitting it aloud. It was true, of course, but that didn't help her think of anything further to add to the conversation.

The whole thing might have collapsed into an awkward, expectant silence if James hadn't saved the day and started up about the Gryffindor party. He'd always loved to play the hero.

"…and Sirius will break my other ankle when he finds I haven't got the butterbeer. Of course, he'll probably be in detention for a few weeks after McGonagall shows up and slaps on the manacles. He won't have a chance to do it before the Slytherin match, which is all that really matters. We're going to plough them into the ground; we've had a strategy going for months. Can't wait to see Stebbins' face… "

Lily, who had started listening with every intention of being perfectly agreeable, couldn't take it any longer. It was with an explosive "James!" that she neatly derailed his monologue.

"Yes?"

"Is that all you can talk about? Quidditch?"

There was a taken aback sort of silence, then – "Sorry?"

Lily glared at the folds of curtain before her. "How can you sit there and talk about team sports after everything we've just been through? You almost – I thought – you could have _died_, Potter!"

"Well, what else should we talk about?"

Grappling for words, Lily spluttered out the first thing that came to mind. "I don't know – well, yes, I do! _Life_. There is more to life than Quidditch, James!"

"Of course there is. There's all the dull parts as well, but I don't want to talk about _them_. Quidditch is like… it's the _flying_, Lily, the sense of being alive. When I get off my broomstick, everything feels more or less like I'm buried under rocks in a very dark, very painful place." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, not everything. Some things are different… but that's neither here nor there."

Lily didn't know how to respond to this. It was nothing like what she had expected, but after everything else that had happened that night, she supposed she really shouldn't have bothered expecting at all. She stared at her hands, fully aware that James was on the other side of that curtain waiting for a reply.

She was being ridiculous; that much was obvious. And James was being – and there was no other word for it – _honest_. Nice and honest all at once. The world had tipped upside down.

Lily's every expectation was collapsing in around her, and she had no idea how to act, what to say, what to _do._

Overwhelmed, she grappled again and finally fixed on the easy way out. "I'm sorry this conversation is so very _dark_ and _painful_ for you."

James' disappointment rang loud through the dividing curtain. "You've got the wrong end of the broomstick, Lily. Yet again. And I really hate it when you treat me like a first-class prat, particularly when I'm not even acting it." He drew a deep breath and finished with a lightness in his voice that Lily knew she didn't deserve. "I can only assume that this is the first of the seventeen shades of pain you promised."

What could Lily say to that? She could only apologise, and she did so for what seemed like the twentieth time that night.

James sighed heavily. "All is forgiven if you toss me some chocolate."

"You could just summon it, you know."

"Wouldn't be Lily if she didn't make me work for it," James muttered to himself, but there was a smile in his voice that Lily found herself reluctantly responding to.

"When did you stop being an arrogant toerag?"

The question was out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.

They suffered a long, uncomfortable pause before James cleared his throat. "Never stopped. Just took it down a notch."

Lily shifted her gaze to the filigrees coiling gracefully about the ceiling. "I don't believe that."

"In that case, I suppose I stopped being one when you stopped thinking me one, Evans. Doesn't seem like I have much control over it."

Lily thought about this. Maybe James was right – maybe he wasn't in control of it. But she wasn't either, no matter what he thought. She had no control whatsoever, or she wouldn't be lying here staring at the ceiling, too scared to talk face to face with someone she saw and sparred with everyday.

Then James sneezed, and the situation seemed even more ridiculous. He was just a _boy_, a silly boy she'd known for years, and probably still coated in dust from the collapsing passageway.

"Bless you."

"Er, bless you too?"

"It's a Muggle thing," Lily explained, lips edging into a smile. "Don't ask me. At least you won't be starting any avalanches up here."

"I wouldn't be so sure. I don't trust this castle at all. It betrayed me back there in that tunnel, and who's to say it won't do it again?"

"Sense and logic."

"Since when have I listened to them?"

"There is that."

"If it does fall in, you just send out another of those life-saving Patronuses, won't you? Or do you need to be holding my hand for that?"

Lily stiffened at once. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, why can't you just admit it?" The frustration in his voice was tangible. "It's really not that hard. You couldn't cast that Patronus back there until you'd squeezed my hand and – and got a moment of bloody _clarity_. You liked it. You did."

Lily's stomach clenched with the ineffable truth of it, but the fear bit harder, and she was halfway off her mattress and determined to leave when James stuck a hand through his curtains.

"Get back in bed," she snapped, horrified at the thought of James further harming his ankle. "Do you want to heal or not?"

"Not if you don't stay here."

Lily wavered but the sight of that waiting hand proved too much. "See if I care," she said shortly, turning on her heel. Next moment, the rattling sound of curtains being swept aside forced Lily to swing back around, and she gasped as James pushed himself to his feet. "Don't you dare!"

"Come – here and – talk – to me," he panted, face gaining a greenish tinge as he took a tottering step forward.

Cursing Potter's name and his every living relation, Lily rushed forward and propelled him back to bed by the shoulders. His body crumbled before his resolve, and he was back on the mattress before Lily had been forced to make good on her threat to call for Madam Pomfrey.

"Are you out of your mind?" she snarled, heaving his legs onto the mattress when he proved unequal to the task. They were heavier than she expected, and it took some effort to lift them, let alone support the broken ankle. When she was finally done and somewhat recovered, Lily glanced furiously at James' face. The intense look she found there – half triumph, half determination – made her heart leap into her throat.

"What?" she asked sharply, tugging the blankets over James with a growing sense of self-consciousness. He was there, right there, warm and solid under her hands, and he looked every bit as angry as she felt. She met his gaze steadily, furiously, and it was only seconds before the irritation slid clear off his face.

"My turn to apologise," he said simply. "I pushed again. Sorry."

"Yes, you bloody pushed," said Lily with a sigh, ripping her eyes away. She sank down on the edge of his bed, smacking his hand away when it drifted closer to hers. It was strange how she could sense him trying to catch her eye when she was so deliberately avoiding his. Thing was, if she looked again, if she let him take her hand, Lily had an odd feeling that he wouldn't even _need_ to push.

The thought was terrifying.

"Lily, I – I don't know how to say this, but… a doe, Lily! A _doe_ Patronus, and you have no idea what I'm even on about."

She didn't. She just sat there and listened to the stilted, awkward press of his words.

"I just – I just have to keep trying, all right? Because I'm set on this, on _us_, and I _know_ you're caving. You feel something too. And I'm going to kick my foot through that wall of yours if it's the last thing I do."

Lily cringed at the memory of that final collapse behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. "That was an accident," she whispered, afraid to speak louder in case her voice cracked. "You have – you've no idea how scared I was, James."

"How scared you were, or how scared you are, Lily?"

"I'm no guineapig."

"Gryffindors are brave, not stupid. And honestly, honestly Lily – I've survived worse, much worse than some bloody structural collapse."

"I haven't."

"But you could. I _know_ you could. You're brilliant, remember? And sometimes you need to cave in a bit, or how can you ever be happy? Sometimes you just need to push off from the dark places. You have to learn that sooner or later."

Lily offered a weak smile at the palm lying open on the blankets. "Before, behind the wall, you told me that you're a terrible student when you don't want to learn something. Do you remember that? Well, I'm the same."

"I'm patient."

"You _push_."

"So let me push you."

Lily finally looked at James, saw the open, honest plea scrawled across his face, saw the determined set of his jaw and the compassion in his eyes, and above all, she heard his voice: that dangerous, commanding Head Boy voice.

"Shall you sneeze or shall I?" she murmured, finally letting him snatch her hand.

"On the count of three?"

Lily took a deep breath. "One… two…"

And then he sat up and kissed her, and the world came crashing down on Lily's head.

**

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**THE END**

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**No passageways were harmed in the making of this story. James Potter was not so lucky, but his every wound was kissed better by a most dedicated Head Girl. Unbeknownst to the pair, Dumbledore had orchestrated the whole event. Popcorn was involved. **

**REVIEW. :)**

**xx Froody**


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